Sheila’s POV
The room still smells like him.
I didn’t sleep much. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face above me, the way his jaw clenched, the way his breath hit my skin. It wasn’t a dream. It was too real, too raw. My body still felt heavy, used, like I’d just stepped out of something I shouldn’t have enjoyed as much as I did.
The sheets are a mess. My legs ache. My throat’s dry.
I sit up slowly, pulling the blanket around me. The sunlight cuts through the blinds, slicing the room into strips of gold and shadow. It’s quiet now no sound but my heartbeat, still uneven.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.
Brendan.
The message flashes across the screen.
“You okay?”
Just two words, but they hit deeper than I want them to. I type out a reply three times before I settle on, Yeah.
